Changing the Course of History
by Alethnya
Summary: One shot. The past cannot be changed. Christine knows this, but she cannot keep herself from wishing that it could be...


**Disclaimer: **I don't own them.

There is nothing so horrible in this world as shattered illusions—especially when those illusions are the very fabric of one's life; the very bedrock that an entire existence has been built upon.

I had thought I understood how it felt to watch your world crumble to ruins about you. I had thought I understood what it was to discover that everything you believed in was merely a dream, a lie. The chaos of my final months beneath the roof—and the foundations—of the Paris Opera House had, I believed, taught me quite well the difference between dreams and reality; between lies and the truth.

And I had chosen the only way I could. Raoul was my reality. Raoul was my truth.

I had eagerly grabbed hold of that knowledge with both hands, all too willing to dismiss everything else as the manipulations of a tortured, if soul-stirring, madman.

Imagine my infinite surprise then, when the path I had chosen led not to the idyllic future it had promised, but to a sudden and unexpected dead end…

Imagine my shock when the truth I had clung to with such slavish devotion revealed itself as nothing more than an elaborate and inescapable lie…

A lie, this time, of no one's creation but my own.

I had built it piece by piece, constructing it with painstaking precision out of pretty words like freedom, happiness, safety and love. Oh…and one cannot forget the essential ingredients of a beautiful diamond ring and the eternal bonds of holy matrimony. Thus was my fantasy born, and thus was it given the perfect shape…that of the noble and handsome Vicomte de Chagny.

Eight years have now passed since my marriage to Raoul. And it is only now, with the benefit of hindsight, that I am able to see how very foolish I was: a silly, spineless girl who cowered in fear where she should have stood certain and sure; a shallow-minded simpleton who shrunk away in revulsion where she should have reached out with comfort and…

Well, I could spend the whole of my life enumerating the sins of my childish folly. God knows I have tormented myself with them enough over these long years.

I suppose I could relinquish some of the burden of my actions—dismiss them as the careless naiveté of youth and be done with it. But I refuse to allow myself anything of the kind. If absolution is to come, it will be from one hand and one hand alone…

And do not mistake me—it is not God whose forgiveness I seek, nor to whom I bow my head in repentance every night. I find my faith, once the only true strength of the weak willed girl that I was, diminishing steadily now. With each passing year it becomes harder for me to find conviction in His existence at all.

For surely, if there were truly a God, this clarity of mind, this strength of will, would have been given to me when I needed it most, when it may actually have served some purpose. Not now, when I can do nothing but stare helplessly from behind the gilded bars of my chosen cage at the _ifs_ and _could haves_ and _should haves_ that haunt me.

I have fallen to a trap of my own design, and there is no hope of escape.

And, perversely, I relish in that fact, for I do not wish to escape. What better and lasting vengeance for Erik than this? As he suffered the agonies of loving such a fool as me, so shall I suffer the greater torment of having been that fool. As he wept for the love that was denied him, so shall I weep the bitterest of tears at the knowledge that it was _I_ who denied such a love.

I often imagine Erik smiling upon my torment; encouraging my recriminations. Reveling, even, in the depths of my darkest depressions. Sometimes, I can even see him near me, golden eyes scorching my soul and revealing even more profoundly the depths of my betrayal.

It is on those rare occasions—when the vision of him is strong and clear and so very real to my willing eyes—that I find some measure of happiness. For though I can never be with him again in life, I can take comfort in the fact the he is always with me.

Raoul once said that Erik would haunt us till we were dead.

I do not think he realized just how right he was.

The Phantom of the Opera is _still_ here, inside my mind. Inside my very soul.

And oh, I would have it no other way. For there, within my most secret places and my most cherished dreams, I do not abandon him to darkness and despair. In my mind, I embrace him with all of the love in my heart…all the passion of a lifetime.

In my mind, I can be the woman I should have been. I can right the wrongs of so many years ago. I can look upon his ravaged face without fear. I can take his hands in mine without hesitation. I can kiss his lips with no other motive than to love him.

In my mind, I can change the course of history.

Because, in my mind, I can stay.


End file.
